London
by Xeen Cyr
Summary: 2018. Derek Wills is back in London and works successfully in the West End. But something is missing in his life.
1. Prologue

This is set in the future, sometimes in 2018.**  
**

**I don't own SMASH**

-o-

**PROLOGUE**

London was still windy and cold at this time of year. Derek Wills left his apartment and took a cab to the theatre. His car was parked somewhere in Mayfair, right where he left it the day before when he realised he couldn't possibly drive himself home in the state of inebriation he was in.

He had been drinking a lot lately, too much for his own good. He was getting older and didn't hold his liquor the way he used to. That didn't stop him anyway. Anything was better than going back sober to an empty house in a lifeless posh neighbourhood.

Work was good though. He was glad his Hollywood years were behind him and even happier that he left behind his flourishing Broadway career. 'Bombshell' had been the last straw.

Working with Tom had proven impossible in the end. The guy was definitely a nightmare. Behind his gentle demeanour was lurking a devilish persona, stuck on rehashing events from the past. Unable to move forward, he declined repeatedly Derek's attempts to mend their relation for the good of their common work.

Then, Julia Houston had a total meltdown. She dumped her husband and Michael Swift. After her divorce, she quit the business altogether and left New York with her baby. Her midlife crisis lead her to buying a small boutique in Nantucket, Wine and Roses. Last time he heard of her, she was selling second hand furniture and refurbishing houses for the well-off. Good for her. Too bad Broadway lost a talented librettist in the process and Levitt his soul mate.

Eileen married her bartender and they had their five minutes of bliss. She was back to co-producing inept plays with her ex-husband and had reclaimed her previous status as a Broadway producer icon. She wasn't cut for the job though. When they worked together on Marilyn, she constantly undermined his authority, doggedly destroying his work. She didn't know better, he pondered, she thought she was an artist, and probably, she was, in her own way. She was definitely not a producer, Jerry Rand was always the producer.

Derek knew there was a cardinal rule in theater. The director was always the first to go. They needed every single technician, a cast was hard to replace, and producers had a tendency to stick to their choice when it came to their star. Once his job was done, and it was the hardest part, really, they didn't need him in the way of their money making. Firing the director was the only logical way to go. Eileen wasn't new to the theater, she knew the rule as well. At some point, their opposite visions were not only clashing on a regular basis, but it became painfully obvious for the both of them that they were incompatible. Derek didn't want to ruin their long lasting friendship. His ego would survive the storm, so he saved her the trouble and went back to England.

And it felt quite right at the time. At this point in his successful career, he didn't have to prove himself. For some obscure reasons, he was glad to reconnect with his roots. Too bad that naïve girl had to pay for Eileen's short-sightedness. The play was a smashing hit on Broadway, earning rave reviews from influent critics along with the praise of the industry, and yet Eileen had her mind set the whole time on finding a name to put on the billboard. It took her some manoeuvres and detours but she ultimately went for a real star. A real star, he didn't even know what she meant by that. Karen Cartwright was a star. She was perfect, she owned the role. You know what they say? When it's not broken, don't fix it.

At first, Eileen made him change everything, ransacking the lyrics and his direction every chance she got. After the first previews in Boston and Philadelphia, she sacked valuable dancers on a whim, and basically did everything in her power to destroy the play. Did she still want to get back at Jerry at some point? Maybe. As soon as she got her investment back, she decided to go for another inept blonde who'd never set foot on a stage in her career. 'Bombshell' went down in flames. It wasn't the biggest flop in Broadway's history but it made the headlines anyway. The problem was she didn't need to fire Cartwright and he resented her for doing it anyway.

Everybody had their eyes on their unknown leading lady fresh from Iowa. Every producer on Broadway wanted to steal her from 'Bombshell'. Eileen Rand, with her delusions of grandeur, merely did their work for them and gave them Cartwright on a silver plate. Jerry Rand was too happy to snatch her from 'Bombshell' and Cartwright became instantly the darling of New York City. She made the cover of every magazine, was invited to every morning show. Soon, a swarm of adoring fans and eager reporters were following her everywhere.

Derek didn't stick long enough to watch his play go down in flame, he had other fish to fry. Leaving New York had a price though. He knew he cared about Karen in his own way. When Jerry asked him to go back to 'My Fair Lady', he declined the offer. Falling for Cartwright was a bad idea. She was so naïve and gentle, it would have harmed her. And it was the last thing he wanted.

Hence, he was in London, in a cab, going to the first meeting of his next play in the West End longing and feeling like a teenager. He was 46, with a long list of smashing successes to speak for himself and he was in love and alone.


	2. 1 BELGRAVIA

**I don't own Smash**

-o-

**1 . BELGRAVIA**

"It's been a while, hey?" asked the red head she had hired as a last minute assistant.

"Sorry?" the statuesque actress turned her attention to the petite woman and smiled. "A while?"

"Yeah, I heard you haven't been in London in years! I'm so excited!" she explained for the umpteenth time. "It's my first time over here!"

Karen Cartwright hid a smile. Jenny Hudson was miss exclamation mark. It was endearing and contagious and she needed it at the moment. She was excited too but she had learned to conceal her thoughts and feelings from the crowd as well as her entourage. "Yes, it's good to be back, I guess," she said softly, her eyes lingering on the London skyline. "And you're right, it's been too long." She was excited and terrified.

She was really looking forward to working with Harold McIntosh and his partner John Longfellow though. It was a dream come true actually. As far as she could remember, she's been humming standards from their plays. There were so many to choose from. "A town to remember", "The gazebo", "My Lord Begham"...

She closed her eyes and exhaled deeply. In some ways, her theatre adventure did begin in London when she met Dev Sundaram. He was a doll at the beginning, always encouraging her to live up to her dreams, fighting for her every chance he got. And, thanks to him, she pursued her dream.

Her talent did the rest, with the help of her dear friend Derek Wills. He was the only one who supported her when she was cast in her first musical, 'Bombshell'. He put his faith in her and never bailed. Overnight, the shy brunette from Iowa became a star. It took her some time to recover from the fact that he had decided to settle back in England. He was a comforting figure in her life, someone she could trust no matter the odds. He was the one who landed her the leading part in 'My Fair Lady' when Eileen let her down to chase after a movie star, negotiating a juicy contract, the first of many. She still remembered fondly her few months as Eliza Doolittle, Derek's nice guidance and thoughtful attentions. It seemed like a lifetime ago.

He promised that they'd keep in touch, that the Atlantic Ocean wasn't wide enough to keep them apart. The things we say, she thought. Once he was back in London, he barely called or emailed her. She didn't feel betrayed. He was probably right to leave her even if it took her a long time to understand. She missed his voice above all, oddly that was the hardest part. And his eyes on her, warm, loving.

Their relationship was only a couple of weeks old. After months of denial, they finally took a leap of faith. It was complicated. Their respective careers would have probably split them apart after a while and she was glad they had the guts to give it a try. It was great while it lasted, she pondered, and she still missed him dearly. She checked his work for a while, a pilot for the BBC, some episodes of Dr Who. A chick flick in Australia, a thriller in South Africa, everything he loathed about cinema. After some time around the world, he finally got back to the theater and she was ready to let him go.

And now she was one of the biggest American star of the Broadway scene to ever take London by storm and she had not exchanged a postcard with Derek in years. Longfellow had been so sweet to her that she couldn't refuse any longer to star in his latest play.

The script was a thing of beauty and the songs, oh my, the songs! Simply perfect. She was anxious to go back to the real work, the rehearsals, the discovery, expectations. Life in the theatre was an adventure and she loved every part of the process. If everything went according to the plan, in less than eight weeks, they will open at the Old Vic Theater in the West End. She met with Kevin Spacey once. They were attached to the same project but the film was never shot. Energetic man. Two little months. Will it be enough?

The cab pulled over in a curb facing a Victorian Hotel not far from the Thames. It felt like a scene from a spy movie. She opened the door and let her assistant sort out the details. Being a star had its perks. She needed to freshen up before taking a stroll to Chesham Place.

She took a quick shower, applied some discrete make up and went back to the reception desk to ask for directions. The lady at the desk was kind enough to draw a map for her. "It's a walking distance," she said. "But it's quite far, though."

Karen didn't mind the walk. She needed some fresh air and some exercise. It took her a half hour to get to the prestigious district. The place was exquisite. Facing private gardens, his house was set in one of London Conservation areas. She didn't picture Derek living in Belgravia. It seemed like a lifeless neighbourhood, rows of embassies and expensive hotels. But he once told her he inherited the place.

Where would they meet if they ever reconnect? What would Leo McCarey do, she thought. She pictured herself waiting for him on the Serpentine Bridge in Kensington Gardens, on the stairs of the National Gallery on Trafalgar Square, on a bench in Westminster Abbey, but nothing compared to the Empire State Building, not even Renzo Piano's Shard of Glass. She was afraid to call him after all these years. She had not heard of him in four years, almost five. Maybe he was married with children. Maybe he was not even in London.

She sat down for a while at the bar of the Sheraton, her eyes set on his door, before going back to her hotel in a cab, more depressed than she had expected.

Fortunately, the play would take her mind off Derek. Tomorrow she'll meet her new director.

"Don't be alarmed," had said McIntosh. "He's accustomed to work with your people."

"My people?"

"Yes, you loony Americans," she heard him giggle over the phone.


	3. 2 The Old Vic

**I don't own SMASH**

-o-

**DAY 1**

"John, Harry, it's so good to finally meet you, I was beginning to think you were a myth!"

"We're not a myth, we are a legend" Harold McIntosh quipped. "And you, my dear, are a sight for sore eyes."

Karen blushed and shook his hand a second to long. "So," she asked, "when do we begin?"

"When do _you_ begin, because I do hope we're finished," grinned John Longfellow.

Both of medium build, with clothes that belonged to another era, 60's Picadilly Street style, they were staring at her expectantly but with a kindness that touched her.

"We've been on this damn 'Damsel for Hire' for, let's see… was it '91? Oh my, time flies, I bet you weren't even born yet," he teased her. This one is quite the charmer, she thought with a grin.

"Would you care for some tea?" asked his partner. "Our director extraordinaire seems to be somehow delayed. You know London, the traffic is insane and cabbies tend to take advantage of our needs to go from one point to the next. He rang only a minute ago to apologize. I have the distinct feeling he wanted to be late for the auditions."

"The auditions?"

"Yes, last call. He doesn't know we already secured our star. It's a surprise. We've seen a great number of fantastic performers and we'll probably retain some of them for the chorus."

"What about the choreographer then," she asked, going directly into business mode. Two weeks was awfully short, even if she knew all the songs.

"Oh, I'm afraid our production is a little, how should I put it… tight. Our director is also the choreographer. But no worries, he knows his trade. He has already come up with magnificent ideas."

"Just like old times," she muttered, taking a seat. "Yes, I would really like some tea," she said louder.

"Ah, ah, London's climate can be difficult but you'll get used to it. Instead of chilly and gloomy, think invigorating and mysterious."

She chuckled.

"So what do you think of our old lady?" Harry asked. "She a fine piece, isn't she?"

"The Vic is a wonderful theatre. I'm thrilled to work here," she smiled over the rim of her cup. "With the two of you," she added.

That was their turn to chuckle. "Since our great director is making himself scarce, would you like to visit the theatre? Your dressing room is perfect. We made some arrangements to your liking with your assistant's help. She a peach, I dare say."

"Lead the way. I'll change while waiting for the prodigal son. I'm guessing that our schedule is going to be insane, so we should get started like yesterday ! Could we review the songs together today?"

"Yes, of course. But really, dear, no need to be alarmed. I do think it's going to be a walk in the park. We listen to your reel and we're quite happy with what you made of our little project."

-o-

Two hours later, the director was still a no-show. It was so cliché, she thought. But the composer and his writer were the nicest persons she had ever had the opportunity to work with and she was having a blast. She asked for a break to place a phone call to her parents. The time difference made things difficult but not impossible. While Cilian, the pianist, and John were discussing the bridge in one of the song that supposedly needed improvement, she retreated in the wings.

"Hi Mom, it's not too early is it?"

"Oh darling not at all. Our little demon was up at 6:30 and he's ready for school. Theo! It's mum…"

She heard some ruckus in the background, some static, and a shrieking voice pierced her ear. "Mum! Granny said she'll find me a Spiderman costume for Halloween and Cindy will go with us. Her mum said she can take us. It's okay right?" he said.

"Of course, sweet pea, it's all right. How's the new school?"

"Don't call me sweet pea, Mum, I'm almost five, I'm not a baby any more," the little boy whined. "I miss you Mum, will you skype me tonight? Granpa bought me a Cubs jersey, I want to show you."

"Okay, I'll try sweet… Theo. I'll ask Jenny to get everything ready."

"I like her hair," he said with enthusiasm. "Gotta go Mum, I'm gonna be late for school."

The phone went dead. She was dialing again when a strong voice stopped her.

"What the hell is going on for Christ's sake? There was no scheduled rehearsal today," the man bellowed. "When did you intend to tell me, John? And where is Harold. For crying out loud, that's precisely why I didn't want to work with you again. Your amateurism…"

She slowly went back to the stage, her stomach filling with butterflies. Yes, really, what the heck was going on? How was it even possible?

They promised her a great script and wonderful songs and they delivered. When they told her she was in for a treat with the director they were in talk with but didn't want to show their hand before it was a sure thing, she had no reason to doubt them. And yet, she was facing Derek Wills. They didn't lie. He was a man up to the challenge, a man who did his work and a fine job of it.

"… your carelessness, I knew I've had enough for a lifetime. You said you wanted to revive your play, could you at least show me some courtesy?" He didn't slow down and strode the flight of stairs up to the stage and stopped abruptly, his coat floating around his ankles.

He hadn't changed a bit. Maybe some additional lines around the eyes, more grey in his tousled hair, but he was exactly the same angry Derek who could command a crowd she remembered.

"Derek, you're here, old boy," quipped Longfellow while the pianist cautiously left the stage. He went past her, and shrugged.

"Derek, I told you we were up to something big. She's with us and she makes my songs sound so good it's a sin."

Derek finally turned his eyes towards her with a smug smile. Her body went rigid. She couldn't find what to say. Derek always had this effect on her. The more she tried to control herself, the more she was petrified. But Longfellow, totally oblivious of her trouble simply continued. "I think you had the privilege to work together in the past."

"Karen? Karen Cartwright?" For a split second, Derek's face showed something more than astonishment. He looked genuinely pleased. Before she had time to ascertain his feelings, Derek's face turned blank and he stared daggers at the composer. "Karen Cartwright? Are you mad? That's not her role!"

Unfazed by his loud agitation, John grinned. "Yes, Karen Cartwright. Isn't it marvellous? She's ours for six months."

Karen went beet red. His wording was blundering at best and totally inappropriate in regard of her previous relationship with Derek. "Derek, how have you been?" she said with poise. "Long time no see."

"Exactly my point," he snapped. "And I intended to keep it that way. John may I have a word with your star?" he spat.

Longfellow nodded and gave Karen a puzzled glance. She dismissed him with a wave of hand. "Later, John, thank you."

Derek watched him leave the stage and turned back to Karen. "What the hell are you doing in London? Were you even going to tell me?"

"Good afternoon to you too, Derek, you look good."

He folded his arms on his chest with a huff. "Enough pleasantries Karen, why are you in London?"

"John told you. I'm here to play 'Damsel for Hire'. I intend to stay in London until the end of April and to take the play back to Broadway if it agrees with you."

"Nonsense."

She ignored his comment and continued. "I'll rent an apartment downtown and get settled and we'll eventually have the conversation you conveniently skipped five years ago… or not. Actually, I don't care Derek. I had no idea you were the director. But if you want me to leave, don't get your panties in a twist just yet, I'll go quietly. I know first hand you've never been a team player and that you can make my days a living hell. I'll let you sort out the contracts with your boys."

Her eyes flashed with a rage she'd never felt towards him, challenging him.


	4. 3 Flight

_Christian Borle and Leslie Odom Jr.'s rendition of 'Another Op'nin', Another Show' was so endearing, I had to pay homage to Mr Porter._

**I don't own SMASH**

-o-

_**FLIGHT**_

"Jenny, are you still at the hotel?" Karen said while rushing back to the dressing room to gather her things. She could barely hear her response in the midst of the loud traffic clamouring in the background.

"No, I'm on my way to the theatre, I'll be…"

She took in the huge bouquet of white lilies and the complimentary paraphernalia scattered all over the small and cosy room, put on her coat over her working pants and tank top, grabbed her purse and city clothes, shoved them inside the bag. "Don't bother. We're going home, start packing and book us the next flight to Des Moines, please. My little man needs me for Halloween."

"Ohh…"

She wrapped her scarf tightly around her neck, covering her ears. She had to protect her voice even if she was out of a job. She ran down the stairs. "And find me some chocolate, lots of chocolate."

"Okay. The usual?"

"Yeah… Thank you, Jenny. I'm sorry I have to cut our stay short."

"It's okay Karen, I bet it wasn't your intention."

"I'll be back in a half hour. Get everything ready."

"No sweat, I'm on it. Oh, Karen, do you want me to call your mum?"

"No, I'll call her from the airport. See you in a few." Karen hung out and stormed out of the theatre.

She had paid her respects to John and Harry and apologised for the mess. Derek, sprawled across the couch, stared at her the whole time, indifferent. They didn't even exchange niceties. On the other hand, the pair was devastated by her decision. They had every reason to be but she could not feel guilty. They knew she rejected an offer from Warner Bros. to work with Steven Soderbergh on his next film. They were the producers. If they couldn't control their director, too bad. She was not the one to blame. And should they decide to litigate the matter, her lawyers would take care of them. She didn't wish them ill. She wanted out like yesterday. She wished she never met Derek again. She had no doubt they'll replace her by a fine British actress in a split second. Derek was right, that was not her part, even though she was able to relate to Samantha Littleton in some ways. Still, it was so typically British, she'd probably would have made a fool of herself.

Derek had been quite clear. She wasn't going to get into a fight with him, not again and certainly not to get the chance to play in London. This part of her life was over. She had put a lid on it five years ago and she wouldn't revisit it. She had made a fine job of compartmentalising so far, she didn't want to jeopardise that fragile balance.

It was probably unfair to her former love. A lot had been left unresolved. It will have to stay that way. She was badly hurt the first time around, she would not go down the same road again, maybe she was a coward but she was not a masochist.

She couldn't help feeling sorry for him though. Age had treated him well on the outside but he hadn't improved a bit on the inside. He was still the same egotistical heartless bastard. It was second nature to him. She sighed. She knew deep down he was so much more because she had experienced it first hand in the past. If only he were confident enough to let someone in.

What a waste, she thought, barging inside the cab and dropping on her seat. She closed her eyes and stinging tears rolled down her cheeks.

-o-

Karen didn't even slam the door when she left. She avoided his eyes at all times, keeping an extraordinary self-control despite his previous scene, a few minutes ago. She simply chose to ignore him. That was a well-deserved blow to his self-esteem. A polite silence and some discontent glares ensued.

"What do you want me to do? Serenade her back?" Derek finally protested.

"Honestly, we'd rather avoid going to such extremes, old chap. You're a terrible singer."

Derek's mouth twitched. Springing from his diplomatic retreat on the sofa, he started pacing about the length of the production office. The task proved to be immensely frustrating due to the size of the room.

He had no idea why Karen's presence had triggered such a strong reaction from him earlier. Of course he was surprised. They were in bloody London, she wasn't supposed to be part of the scenery. As far as he was concerned, Karen was ancient history, she'd never been more than a fling anyway. Well, probably not, given his attitude.

God dammit.

It came at no surprise that John and Harry had courted her over here for their play. This musical will probably be their swan song. They were also the producers and they wanted nothing short of the best. Karen Cartwright was a beautiful performer and her voice would agree perfectly with Harry's exquisite melodies. The man was a genius melodist. His elaborate arrangements were on par which was totally unheard of in the business. She would adapt to the part as a duck takes to water, really. Still, he couldn't wrap his head around the prospect of working with her again.

He still remembered painfully their last collaboration.

He was the director slash choreographer of an umpteenth revival of Cole Porter's 'Kiss Me Kate'. Of course, Karen was pitch perfect, her tap dancing top notch and her singing better than ever. The company was first grade, money was flowing, his direction flawless and inventive and Jerry was happy as a clam.

Then, it happened, something that threw spanners in the collective work. After years of repeating to every performer he had ever worked with that it was okay to have feelings as long as they served the play, Derek had experience something he didn't think he ever would. He was eaten from the inside out by jealousy due to circumstances he had not anticipated. The darn musical was one sexual reference after another. He soon empathized with Fred Graham, the show's director in the musical. The fact that Johnny Stein was the leading man, -and a well known womaniser, turned him overnight into Karen's white knight. The poor girl didn't need another heartbreak after the fallout of her romantic involvement with deputy press secretary Dev Sundaram and her 'My Fair Lady' partner, Michael Swift. Both fickle and wayward pricks. The Iowan woman seemed to specialize into falling for the wrong men.

His rescue mission rapidly got out of hand and escaladed into a steamy affair. Though it didn't get in the way of his work, they barely could keep their hands away from each other. Strict professionals during the day, their nights were an endless swirl of passion and romance for a couple of weeks. Against all odds, and after months of denial, they were a perfect match. They were exhausted as well as elated by the discovery.

Unfortunate side effects were the unwanted exposition of their affair in the news. Suddenly, they became fans favourites, making the frontlines of Page Six for weeks. Not that he was the most eligible bachelor in New York, but she was the unknown ingénue who tamed him. He didn't care. She felt hurt. They fought.

Then, out of the blue, he had a clash with Jerry The Shark Rand and, after a last fight with Karen, abruptly left New York on première's eve and never looked back.

The revival was obviously a smashing success. True to her contract, Karen stayed with 'Kate' for twenty two weeks before retiring from the Broadway scene for six months. Broken ankle, he heard. He sent her red roses and that was it. He knew she eventually got married to a production designer twenty years her senior, had a boy she named Theo. He thought it was funny, Derek being the diminutive of Theodoric. She probably had no idea. Her marriage flopped, and she went through an eventless divorce soon after. At that point, she was the biggest star of the New York scene. She created a string of successful plays with Levitt and his new partner and he lost track.

To Karen's credit, she never tried to contact him during the weeks that followed his coming back to London. Weeks turned into months, months turned into years.

And here she was in his backyard. Unacceptable.

"Right. I can't sing if my life depends on it."

"I'm glad we agree on something. It bodes well for the future of our endeavour."

"You're aware I won't change my mind."

"Quite. That leaves us with one alternative. You know we cherish you as our own son, Derek, but we're determined to open in eight weeks. Karen Cartwright is Sam, she's our only choice."

"Is it a threat?"

"A threat? Oh, don't be so dramatic, Derek, you must know you're too old for these antics. Let's put it this way: we are at an impasse."

"Oh, really?"

"Either you work with her, or you're out."

"Is that so?"

"I'm afraid it is."

Derek was tempted to storm out. He didn't need the money or the work. "Should I choose to stay, what's in it for me?"

"Could you sit with us for one minute? You're making me dizzy."

Derek complied. "You know she's probably flying over the Atlantic right now," he said in a stern voice. "That's what she does. She bolts," he lied, overplaying contempt.

"Don't make inferences and draw conclusions just yet, old boy. We still have a window of opportunity. But we have no doubt she will bolt if you cannot convince her that you got carried away."

"Carried away?" he bellowed.

"Persuade her that you were, I don't know… dumfounded. Find a way to make her change her mind."

"Why would I?"

"Because."

"Oh, right!" He paused, glaring at the two men facing him. "Why Cartwright? And why didn't you tell me?"

"Oh dear boy, it was supposed to be a surprise! You worked together in the past and it was magnificent. Her Eliza Doolittle? My oh my. Her voice, her freshness and your talent? And 'Kiss me Kate'? Cole Porter walked out of his grave to see that show, you're no so modest to ignore that."

"Flattery will lead you nowhere."

"I wouldn't be so sure."

Derek crossed his arms before his chest and faced them. "Okay, the way I see it, we don't need more aggravation. She doesn't get director control."

"Done. Firing you will be our sole prerogative."

"You're being so kind," he smirked. "Rehearsals start tomorrow, no Sunday break, we need the time, ten to six thirty, one hour break, every day until dress rehearsal. No union stunt, you hear me? Private rehearsal sessions for your star every other night. Not less than ten sessions before dress preview. Twice a week after the première until I'm satisfied. She needs to be familiar with English lingo. That's mandatory. I want to see Eddie Fiske, Liv Lambeth and Oliver Abbington tonight, I don't care if it's late, they'll sleep next year. You two make sure everything is as it should be. And I'll need a production assistant. Claire Bellamy, check if she's available, she's used to working with me. Do we have a deal?"

"You'll have the draft by seven. Now, go get our star back," Harry said, handing him a hotel business card. "I wrote her phone number on the back."


	5. 4 Stupid is as stupid does

**I don't own SMASH**

-o-

_**4 . Stupid is as stupid does**_

_New York, November 2013_

Even to Derek's standards, today's rehearsal had been excellent, the best they could hope for for the time being. The cast had managed to convey to the scenes an enthralling rhythm through and through, the numbers that were supposed to stop the show did stop the show, and no one was willing to jeopardise this new-found dynamic which was not short of a miracle after a couple of weeks.

With a smile on her face, Karen ran back to the dressing room wishing it were a preview. She felt all of a sudden more energetic and enthusiast than the days before. The play turned out to be far more complicated than it seemed but Derek's work was magnificent, probably his best since his revival of 'The Phantom of the Opera' in 2003.

Though he had been his usual self, moody and mercurial, blowing hot and cold, there was no doubt he knew what he was doing. She was the only one he showed his soft side to, to the utter disbelief of the company. Landing the part of the leading lady in one of the most iconic Cole Porter's musical was a dream come true, and she owed it to him. After their success with 'My Fair Lady', he'd asked for her. Actually, she learnt that he had it put in writing as an undisputable in his own contract. They were a ticket. No Cartwright, no Wills.

The cherry on top was her blossoming relationship with the dashing Johnny Stein. Childishly, she was prone to believe he was way out of her league. A Broadway veteran, surrounded by a crowd of female admirers wherever he went, with a string of smashing success under his belt, she couldn't believe he noticed her existence. And yet, she was the one whose career was rocketing fast to the top, while his was meant to take a halt at some point. How higher can you get when you're already number one?

She got burned twice already, and from then one, became increasingly cautious. She was taking things slow with Johnny. She was not totally over Michael, well, she was almost there, not quite. She knew she was still sending mixed signals. She was cleaning her face to get rid of the make-up Derek asked them to wear for the rehearsal, and daydreaming about her evening with Johnny when a heated conversation outside her door made her stop. She was not the gossipy type but, seriously, before her door? She walked up to the source of the argument and overheard part of it.

"I say you stay away from Karen. That is not negotiable," Derek was shouting now.

"My private life doesn't concern you. Anyway, what is she to you? You've known her for some time now, didn't you get to tap her yet?"

"My rapport with Karen Cartwright is none of your business."

"But you feel free to veto a little armless fraternization among the troops? Back off Derek, you don't have reign over me outside your fucking play."

"No, I don't, I'm simply asking you to leave her alone."

"On which ground? So it's true what they say, you're her sugar daddy?"

She heard Derek growl. "You punk, you don't deserve to lay eyes on her, let alone touch her. She's off limit, do I make myself clear? You won't destroy her as you did others. I say leave her alone."

"Oh, playing the British gentleman card, are you, defending her honour and whatnot. So noble of you Derek. Look at her. She expects me to shag her, she's a professional."

"That is an interesting concept. Don't try my patience, Stein."

"Don't embarrass yourself Wills."

"Should you decide to cross me, I'll make your life a living hell 24/7. I'm still the director."

Karen was staring, tears welling up in her eyes. Her romantic radar was way off if she thought the prestigious prick had been falling for her. She was just meat.

"And I have director control," Stein retorted with contempt. "A phone call, and you're out, and I promise you I'll make sure you won't be missed. Now, you get out of my way."

"Or what?" Derek's tone was menacing now.

"I'll break your jaw."

"You Neanderthal prick don't deserve her." Then his eyes met hers. She gave him a nod and he shrugged.

"It'll be my pleasure to beat you to a pulp."

"You can try."

Instead of throwing a punch, Stein burst into a fit of laughter. "Something you seem to forget, Wills. An affair between the leads is good for business. Free publicity is the best Jerry Rand can hope for."

"Okay," Derek abruptly surrendered to Stein's surprise. He held out his hand. "Be my guest, she's waiting for you."

Johnny Stein chuckled. "See, it wasn't that difficult in the end," he smirked. "I'll deliver her back to you when I'm done."

Karen's voice startled him. "Derek, are we still on tonight? I'll be ready in a jiffy. Could you help me with my dress please?"

Johnny turned around slowly, his eyes glowing with anger. He grinned, looking her up and down. "Let me guess, sweetheart, we're done?" He didn't wait for her answer. "You don't know what you miss." He turned back to Derek. "You win. It was a fair fight. See you tomorrow Derek."

-o-

_London, September 2018_

"I'm on it Karen, don't worry," said Jenny while she answered the phone. "Ms Cartwright's phone…"

"Who's this?" Derek Wills barked.

"Like I said, Ms Cartwright's phone."

"Okay, Ms Cartwright's phone, tell your boss I need to talk to her."

"Good morning to you too. Who am I speaking to?"

"Oh, for crying out loud, just tell Karen it's urgent, Derek Wills calling." He heard a muffled conversation.

"I'm sorry but Ms Cartwright does not wish to talk to you. Good bye sir."

She asked her assistant to ring up on me? He pressed re-dial.

"Ms Cartwright's phone," said the same voice.

"Hello again. I can do this all day you know. Maybe it'd be best to start on a first name basis to save us some time," he said.

"I'm sorry, who's this?"

"Bloody hell, it's Derek Wills for Ms Cartwright. Put her through please."

"Ms Cartwright is not available at the moment. Would you like me to take a message?"

"No, just tell her to call me back." Derek checked his watch. Karen wouldn't leave town without her assistant. His cab was only minutes away from her hotel. If he was lucky enough to catch her at the hotel he wouldn't have to chase her all the way to Heathrow. When the driver pulled over in front of the Victorian Hotel, Karen was checking out at the reception desk with her trunks in tow, probably arranging a lift to the airport. He threw a handful of bills to the cabby and walked casually towards her.

When he was three feet away, "Hello Karen," he said.

"Derek." She didn't bother to turn around. She signed something, exchanged some pleasantries with the reception manager and took her sweet time to put away her purse inside a large cross body bag. Only then, she looked at him, her face blank. "Why are you here? Wanted to add something? You were perfectly clear the first time around. Now, will you get out of my way, please?"

"John and Harold want you back."

She tilted her head and a smile that didn't reached eyes graced her regular face. "Why are you here?" she said again. Derek folded his arms before his chest, getting the measure of her determination. "You really need to hammer it in?" she pushed. "I heard enough. I'm not the part, blah blah blah. It's the same story all over again." She glared at him, her big brown eyes opened wide. They were dark with anger.

Averting her stare, he finally said. "I'm afraid we started on the wrong foot."

"That's your apology?"

"You of all people know I'm not good at this."

"What are you apologizing for in the first place, for pulling a Houdini on me five years ago? For being a narcissistic prick? The way I remember it, we made love that night, Derek, and I flaked out in your bed. When I woke up… Never mind."

"At least we skipped the drifting apart phase, the comforting and bland evenings, the embarrassing stuff like baby talking each other."

"That's what a true relationship is made of, Derek. I like the embarrassing stuff, don't you get it? It shows that you're vulnerable, that you can have feelings. Something you obviously don't know anything about." He was smart enough to stay silent. "I had to hear it from Rand's assistant, that Ellis weasel? That you were gone, just like that. Not even a note or a phone call or a text message? Why?"

"Rand and I had a fight."

"What has it got to do with me?"

He sighed. "Could we talk privately?" he said in a soft voice. She turned around, taking in the deafening silence in the foyer and the stares focused on them.

"We won't talk Derek. I don't want to hear any more lies. I'm in a safe place right now and I intend to stay away from you as far as possible. I should have stayed away from London, but what were the odds of having to work with you again? Aren't you satisfied that I'm not willing to put up a fight?" she spat the last words.

"Karen, do you want me to call the police?" a young woman asked.

"The police? Are you insane?" Derek bellowed, suddenly oblivious of the crowd.

"Is this man harassing you?" she insisted.

"No, Jenny, he's not doing anything. Are we set?"

"The cab is on its way."

"Good. Derek," she nodded and walked briskly past him, hurrying out to the street.

"Mr Wills," said Jenny with a determined face.

Derek strode in their wake. "Karen, you're not leaving. I won't let you."

"What are you going to do? Restrain me?"

"Be reasonable. John and Harry wrote this musical with you in mind. And let's face it, under my direction, you're going to be a spectacular Samantha Littleton."

His eyes bore into her, and he saw her resolve wavering.

"Always the humble one," she grinned. "You really haven't changed."

"It's the last musical they intended to write. You're a star now. You don't have anything to be frightened of. I promise I won't hurt you again."

"Oh boy, you're so full of yourself! Of course you won't, because I won't let you," Karen muttered.

"Since you checked out already, would you agree to stay at my place?"

"What?"

"My flat is so large that the chances of running into each other are slim to none. You wouldn't even have to avoid me in the hallways. Not to mention it'll be convenient to have the director's expertise at your fingertips… only if you need to," he backtracked. "But I already know you won't."

Surrounded by her trunks, Karen was pacing the pavement nervously. She wanted the part so badly. God, she wanted Derek so badly, it almost hurt. It was a mistake, a huge one, that she'll come to regret. She stopped and turned around, "Okay. But anything goes wrong, I'm out."

"What could possibly go wrong, darling?" he said smugly.


	6. 5 Mrs Outhwaite

_**I don't own SMASH**_

-o-

**Mrs Outhwaite**

_New York, September 2013_

They made love on her roof that night. It was a surprising twist in their professional partnership. Since his unfortunate attempt at cast couching her, Derek never gave her a second thought, not even after she had dumped her idiotic boyfriend, that violent British prat. She was funny, talented, great looking and off limit for unknown reasons, proving that even men's minds could work in mysterious ways. If Karen had been smitten with her director in the past, it was a feeling that had come to pass eventually. She liked him like a big brother and he was a great shoulder to cry on if need be.

That night, it just happened like it was the most natural thing in the world. One minute, they were laughing their ass off over some futile Broadway gossip, the next they were making love with a desperation and a hunger they didn't know they had. The light of a resplendent late summer dawn crept over their exhausted bodies before they had the chance to satisfy their mutual craving. Derek was in shock. In spite of his previous misconceptions, Karen wasn't afraid of anything below the neck.

In the beginning, he thought it was the thrill of possessing her out in the open air in the middle of the city they say that never sleeps that made it so special. It felt weird to have all those people surrounding them and attending their own business while he was having the time of his life with someone he had never considered as a potential lover. How could these strangers be unaware of the passion unleashed on a roof they could see from their nearby windows?

At night, her roof garden acquired a magical quality that made him want to have her in his arms forever. He couldn't get enough of her. It was new, it was exciting and bloody hell, she was gorgeous. After a few evenings spent on the old sofa, they had to seek refuge in her apartment because of the rain and she stepped inside the shower with him. He discovered that the water wasn't cold enough to temper his ardour as they slowly took their time to rediscover each other.

A week later, there wasn't an inch of her body he hadn't licked or nibbled or sucked. He could not get his hands off of her. His compulsion matched hers to a degree that frightened them both. They could spend hours lost in each other, drained, happy and always wanting more. Regardless of each other increasing needs, they would reluctantly catch a few hours of sleep before another day at the theatre.

After rehearsals, he would rush back to her place, deserting his generic loft, oblivious of his usual obligations. Or they would meet in a colourful restaurant at the skirt of town, barely able to keep their desire in check on the back seat of a taxi on their way home.

That fateful day, they were strolling about a mere block away from her apartment, holding hands and kissing like two teenagers. It was the beginning of a glorious Indian summer. They were relaxed and carefree, totally addicted to each other presence and both tiptoeing around the L word, though neither one of them was bold enough to be the first one to say it out loud yet.

A familiar voice startled them. "Derek, Karen, long time no see!"

Karen froze, and Derek turned around with a frown of utter discontent. "Ivy, how nice to meet you," he snapped back, pressing Karen's hand. Karen faced her old nemesis and she didn't like what she saw.

After her 'Bombshell' debacle and a month stunt in rehab, Ivy actually had got her act back together and bounced back. She was now a famous performer off Broadway. She had even started her own teaching class with great success and a waiting list of wannabee actors that spoke for itself. Striking a provocative pose, Ivy glowered at them with a bright smile plastered on her face. Her red lips made her look older than she was. Ignoring Karen, "You look good Derek, how long has it been?"

Derek didn't answer, and stepped aside unconsciously, shielding Karen with his body in the process. Ivy acknowledged his move with a smirk. "And look at you Karen, all grown-up! All you needed was a real man after all."

Karen recoiled unconsciously behind Derek, clenching his hand.

"What do you want Ivy?" asked Derek, his ice cold voice tinged with contempt.

"I heard very good things about your revival of 'Kiss Me Kate'. Karen and Johnny, that's a match made in heaven."

"I have no doubt," he said cautiously. Her intent was clear. Stein's reputation as a lady-killer preceded him. "I see you're still not opposed to make ludicrous assumption," he spat.

"Derek, please don't," Karen muttered.

"Oh, she talks!" Ivy exclaimed in a childish tone.

"What do you want Ivy?" Karen repeated. "Can't you stop ruining everything?"

"God forbid! I'd say it's quite a surprise to meet you two in this wretched neighbourhood. Not your usual stomping grounds Derek."

Derek sighed. "Ivy, it was nice…"

"… to meet you," Karen added.

"Look at you, finishing each other sentence. How cute," Ivy gloated. "Let me give you a piece of advice Karen, the habit of the lady-killer clings to Derek too."

"Meaning?"

"Discretion goes with the territory, darling," she said, mimicking Derek's verbal tic. "After all, even away from the Upper East side, we're still in New York. It would be bad publicity for you and the play if the tabloid smelled a whiff of your little fling."

"Is it a threat?" Derek snarled.

"A threat? Don't be so dramatic Derek, it's merely an observation."

-o-

_London, September 2018_

The library was worthy of a mention in the Guinness book. Expensive rugs scattered on a thick flowery carpet, a Victorian fireplace, and a collection of oil paintings completed an impressive display of rare leather-bound first editions, rows after rows of them. His apartment was frozen in time.

A fire had been laid and lit by the discreet housekeeper and the place looked out of this world. Well, maybe she was in Manderley after all, she chuckled, wondering when she'll meet the elusive Ms Outhwaite. Her fingers brushed the rim of the frames sat on a small cherry-wood pedestal table. Family photographs no doubt. One of a small child standing proudly beside a thoroughbred horse caught her eye. Theo clearly looked exactly the same as his father at the same age. The resemblance was uncanny.

Derek never knew that the child was his to begin with. She had made sure of it. Her short and convenient marriage probably reinforced that opinion. She never intended to tell Derek she was pregnant with his child when he went back to England. Should he have stayed in New York, her pregnancy probably would have hastened the break up anyway.

They were in a bad place at the time, constantly arguing about their exposure in the press. At some point, they had lived side by side for weeks like strangers, barely exchanging a word except when they were in a public capacity. She was relieved when he left, and ultimately persuaded herself she couldn't picture him as a father for Theo. But things had changed now. Water under the bridge, she thought, but a sudden sharp feeling hit her and kept nagging at her. It wasn't a secret she should have kept from him. It was not fair, not for the boy, and not for him, she thought, experiencing an unwanted twinge of guilt. If she were going to stay at his place until next spring, she knew she had to come clean even if she didn't want to ask anything of him.

She sighed and came closer the fire. Despite the photographs and an impressive stack of files in his den, there was nothing in this place that reminded her of the Derek she knew in any way. She remembered his loft in New York though they lived together in her small apartment while they were together. He was using this magnificent place like he would a hotel. He was nearly forty five and yet he still refused to put roots down, she pondered. That certainly said something about him. Obviously, he lived alone. All the guest rooms were immaculate, his own bedroom tidy and manly. She could assume that he didn't change his lifestyle overnight. She was imagining a string of actresses and models parading in the foyer when a quiet voice interrupted her reverie.

"Ms Cartwright, I apologize for not meeting with you earlier. Would you care for a light supper? Mr Wills will be back shortly, maybe you'd prefer to wait for him."

"Oh, Ms Outhwaite! Don't bother, I'll wait for Derek," Karen said. Taken by surprise, she felt a faint red creeping onto her cheeks. The woman was tall and shapely, with large brown eyes and a short auburn hairdo, and her face though it had suffered from the passing of time was still beautiful. In a word, she was striking. "My assistant is probably waiting for me already. She's the one who's computer savvy and I promised my son I'll video call him before he goes to bed," she felt obliged to explain.

"Very well," the housekeeper smiled gently. "I'll leave everything ready in the kitchen then. Have a nice evening, Ms Cartwright."

Before she had time to say anything, Ms Outhwaite had vanished. Karen scuttled upstairs to her room. Jenny's excitement and incessant chatter momentarily distracted her. Her chat with Theo did the rest. When her conversation with her family ended, she felt famished and wandered downstairs.


	7. 6 Theo

**I don't own SMASH**

-o-

**7. Theo**

_New York, October 2013_

As fast as she could, Karen walked out of her favourite coffee shop. She didn't even bother to wait for her latte. She was done with this place, like she was done with every previous ones. No matter where she went, people managed to recognize her. She was aware it would probably be even worse should she be one of Hollywood favourite faces, but even in New York, being the new darling on Broadway was enough. Her love story with Derek had been turned into a turbid affair for weeks and she could tell that it would set them apart eventually.

The notion that she probably would have to find a new place tomorrow to buy her morning shot of caffeine was depressing. Despite the steady flow of morning customers, someone had spotted her almost instantly as soon as she got in line. They flashed their iPad to the crowd with a squeak of delight. There it was, the morning graphic addition to her current nightmare. A gaudy photograph of her previous evening with Derek was splashed on Page Six, nothing new really, ever since Ivy had decided to pull strings to make her private life not so private and turning it into a living hell.

The designer dress she wore the day before seemed cheap all of a sudden. Under the flashing strobe of the paparazzi, she looked haggard and overexposed. Derek's face was hard and twisted with anger while he was attempting to hide behind his arm and to walk away from the excited mob, dragging her in his wake. As much as he was used to getting public attention, it eventually got on his nerves that each and every one of their comings and goings attracted more and more unwanted scrutiny.

They didn't do anything specific to make themselves conspicuous though, but the more they were being discreet, the more they were tracked and hounded. They soon became the laughing-stock of Broadway, their exposure in the tabloids generating more frenzy around them, whichever the venue. Derek was pissed since there wasn't much he could do about it. That was a cruel blow to the ego of a man who liked to be in control. Not to mention that this kind of press was ultimately bad for the play and didn't reflect well on his pedigree. He hated every minute of it. Unfortunately, it had an unwanted boomerang effect. Derek had begun to resent her for it.

Karen ran away from the coffee shop, and rushed to the theatre, lowering her head to avert curious gazes. Her heart pounding, she finally reached the door, and fought a bout of nausea. She was glad the dress rehearsal was only a couple of weeks away. Hopefully since then everybody will grow tired of hunting them down. The downside was that Johnny Stein was having a field day with their very public romance. He knew that Derek wasn't in the business of advertising his relationships, and was delighted to rub it in his face every chance he got.

Ivy had been a no-show for weeks: her work was done. The next logical step was Derek taking it out on her during rehearsals. It was 'Bombshell' all over again and she was tired of being his personal punching bag inasmuch as it didn't stop when they were alone. He was back to being distant and haughty all the time, and when he was not, he was simply rude. They stumbled into a desperate routine punctuated by pleasurable romps of fantastic make-up sex. But their joie de vivre had vanished. More often than not, he would stay at his loft, pretexting some unfinished work, unable to face up to her confusion and distress.

He was clearly not yet equipped to handle domestic stress and Karen, despite her resolve, knew that she was rapidly turning into the needy girlfriend she had sworn to never be no matter the circumstances. His elusive lies were a dead giveaway he was not ready to accept the perks of a true relationship. To make matters even worse, on top of a persistent fatigue sleep seemed unable to make go away, she had caught stomach flu, and she felt sick all the time.

"Hey, sweety, more trouble in paradise?"

Stein's snarky remark caught her off guard. She was exhausted after yet another tense day of rehearsal, and he was the last person she wanted to see or talk to. Where are those red slippers when you need them, she thought, bracing herself against another unpleasant confrontation with the male lead. But he, for once, seemed genuinely concerned by her well-being and, boy, she needed a friend. Not that he was a friend, but it'll have to do for the time being. She was desperately in need of a shoulder to cry on or at least of a confidante.

"Nothing I can't handle," she said in a blank voice, "I guess I just need some rest. I've never been so tired in my entire life. I could sleep for a week right here on the floor."

"Does he know? Did you tell him?" he pressed.

She stared at him, puzzled. "Who knows what?"

"God, Karen, how far are you?" he asked gently, keeping his voice to a whisper, aware that anybody from the crew or cast could eavesdrop on their conversation. "Anyone in his right mind can tell you're pregnant. I know he can pull out all the stops for a show, but given his attitude, I bet Derek doesn't take it well."

"Pregn… no, no, I'm not pregnant… Oh…" Stomach flu, sore breasts, mood swings, how could have she ignored all the signs? "Oh my God, I can't!" she breathed out, stunned.

"I doubt God has anything to do with your current condition," he smiled gently, stroking her shoulder.

"I have to go," she said hurrying outside. The last thing she needed now was Derek showing up.

"Really? You were so caught in your love story you didn't notice?" he shouted. "That's a good one!" he grinned.

She turned around and walked back to the foyer. "Please, Johnny, don't tell him," she knew she was begging.

He shrugged. "You know I won't, but I can't vouch for the rest of them," he said, spreading his arms. "Half the company is already on to you. That's nobody's secret and you won't keep it long."

"Please, don't tell anyone," she said again.

"Okay, okay, don't get your pants in a twist. But I guess you did that already," he laughed. Curious stares darted in their direction. "No sweat, sweetie, I won't say a word. I'm a tomb!"

Stein of all people? She was running now. She dashed to the drugstore, bought an assortment of pregnancy tests and took a taxi home.

She tried them all. Carefully, she sat them on a sheet of kitchen roll on her coffee table and waited. Depending on the brand, the small window displayed pink or showed two lines or a plus sign, -and they had one thing in common, they were all positive. When were her last periods? Six weeks, eight, more, she had no idea. How could she let that happen? I can't tell Derek, he cannot know, she decided. He's not ready to be a father. She knew, deep down she was being unfair, but she was terrified.

And, in the end, it was surprisingly easy since Derek had chosen to distance himself from her and to leave the show the day before the première to go back to London.

-o-

_London, September 2018_

"Oh my god!" she exclaimed, running into Derek who was standing in the kitchen holding a glass of Pinot noir. "Why didn't you turn the lights on?" she added, aware of the red creeping up her cheeks and neck.

And then, she remembered. It was driving her crazy back in the days. He liked walking in her apartment without the lights on at night. "It helps me think, love," he would tell her before planting a kiss on her forehead. "You're like a cat," she used to say.

"I had no idea you were back already, I was looking for Jenny…" She tried to make out his expression, but caught only a shadow since his face silhouetted against the window. Oh dear, it would be so easy to go back to their old ways, she thought unwantedly. They were so good to each other before Ivy decided to ruin what they had. But Ivy had been determined to wreak revenge on her. During all those years, she had had time to give it some thought, and she was still surprised her little scheme had worked. But now wasn't the time to revisit the past. Deep down, she knew she was making a mistake. She couldn't possibly stay at his place, she had to find a place of her own even if she didn't want to.

She sighed and flopped on a chair. "Have you seen her?"

"I'm sorry, darling, I didn't mean to startle you." His voice was warm and felt like a caress. Nothing had changed. She was Karen Cartwright, the Queen of Broadway but she was just as smitten with him as she used to. Talking to her son had calmed her momentarily. She realized she didn't even resent him for his previous outburst at the theatre. That was typical Derek. Staring at him in the dark, realisation sank in. She had no idea she had missed him so much. A sudden pang of guilt washed over her. She fought back her tears and, "Are you sentencing us to stay in the dark?"

"Sorry," he pleaded, "old habit." He switched on the light and she moaned, hiding behind her arm. "Glass of wine?"

"Yes, please."

He poured the wine and handed her a tall glass. "Jenny took a cab to explore what's left of our very popular swinging London by night, I'm afraid. Anything I can help you with?"

"Oh…" She resisted the urge to go back to her room. She didn't expect to be left alone with Derek on their first day.

"Have you eaten anything lately," he finally ventured, "you look appallingly thin."

"I guess I could eat," she had a weary smile. "Yes," she nodded, "I'd like that."

"Good!" he grinned, "let's see what Candice had prepared for us."

"Candice?"

"Ms Outhwaite. The housekeeper. Did you come across her on your voyage of discovery?"

She chuckled. "Your house is really beautiful, and so… not Derek." Her eerie feeling concerning the housekeeper wasn't something she was ready to share with him just yet.

He simply shrugged. "It's convenient. Good location, the peace and quiet of a wealthy neighbourhood…" He stayed silent for a while, sitting an impressive stack of food on the counter. While he was busy with his findings, she observed his strong profile. He was exactly the same man she remembered. A faint smile curled his lips.

"I can feel your eyes on me. What is your verdict?"

"Let's not dwell into that, let's say you haven't change a bit. I know I have."

"If you're fishing for a compliment, Ms Cartwright, you know I'm a given." He paused and locked his eyes on hers. "Have I ever told you how beautiful you are?"

"Please don't." She didn't avert her eyes.

He shook his head. "I must apologize, it was not appropriate. I'm afraid we started on the wrong foot."

"Really?" she couldn't help but grin.

"Touché. What can I say? Old habits die hard."

"I guess…"

"I never explained why I left," he said, putting a plate that looked like a work of art in front of her. "Come on, dig in," he sat across from her. "Would it help if I told you?"

"Help? You had your reasons. I don't want to delve into the past. I've moved on," she said quietly, moving her food around the plate with her fork. "It's been a long time, Derek, let's not revive those memories. I'm here for the work. It seems that I'll have to work with you. But make no mistake, don't expect me to accept your tyrannical behaviour the way I used to. I'm not that girl any more."

"Yes Ma'am. More wine?"

"No, thank you."

The food was delicious and they ate for several minutes in silence.

"Karen, I don't want it to be a problem. If you don't want to work with me, I can find a replacement. I mean, John and Harry are really good friends of mine, we've known each other for a long time. They'll be pissed but they'll comply."

She swallowed her last bite of food, placed her silverware on her plate, careful not to make them clang, pushed back her plate, and sat back. "Why would I ask that of you? I'm an actress, I can work with any director a playwright throws at me, not matter the inconvenience or major difference in views."

"Well done," he smirked. "I see you haven't change a bit."

"What do you want me to say, Derek? My first impulse was to pack and go back to my life, back to my son. It's killing me he's 4000 miles away from me, even if my parents are really good to him."

"What about his father? Can't he take care of the nipper for a few months?"

She winced. "You don't get it Derek. I miss him. And I don't want to miss him unless it's worth it. I can work with you, the question is can you do the same?"

Derek's left eyebrow twitched. "I don't see a problem here. Put him on the next plane. I have plenty of room and there are a few schools I can think of from the top of my head near the theatre or my place."

"You'd do that?"

"Darling, you have no idea. Coffee?"


	8. 7 Wedlock

**I don't own SMASH**

-o-

**7. WEDLOCK**

_New York – Early December 2013_

Jesse Hamm was the most adorable man she knew.

Now that 'Kiss Me Kate' had proven to be a success despite the birds of ill omen predicting a flop because of the sudden departure of Derek Wills to greener pastures, Karen had time to think and rest. Most of the hard work was done. Sure, it was still eight performances a week, but she could have nailed her role down pat even in her sleep. It was a walk in the park really, following the drama and angst of the previous weeks.

Still, her contract was truly binding, so she saw no point in hiring an army of solicitors to get her out of it. She owed only twenty two weeks to the production, there was simply no way around it. Fortunately, she was tall. Her waist had not filled out as fast as she was afraid to, nothing that the costume designer couldn't control anyway until she could leave the show. If Jerry Rand was not happy which her expanding rounder shape, he'll have to fire her himself. Good luck with that, since he didn't think it would be pertinent to add a pregnancy clause to her contract.

As it was expected, her life felt a lot easier after her stomach stopped playing tricks at the end of the first trimester. Being with child agreed with her. She felt like a million bucks, full of renewed energy and strangely happy, -hormones, no doubt. Still, she missed Derek a lot. She had to stop herself from calling him several times a day. He had been a constant in her life for more than two years and her lover for a few weeks. She couldn't deny that his absence had hit her harder that anticipated. Now that he was out of touch and seemed determined to keep it that way, she could assess the depth of her loss. In a way, expecting his child had prevented her from hitting rock bottom. It was ironic that Derek could somehow still achieve to protect her, if vicariously.

People had no doubt who the father was, yet they chose not to confront her. On the contrary, she was swamped by kind ministrations and covered with baby gifts. Quite unexpectedly, Johnny Stein became a very good friend. His reputation didn't give him justice. He was attentive, gentle and surprisingly helpful. He was used to being around pregnant women, his five older sisters had made sure of that. He was now the proud uncle of nearly a dozen of nieces and nephews, going from three months to seventeen years.

And there was Jesse. A production designer older than Derek, who had lost his partner to AIDS a decade before, Jesse Hamm was a gentle soul and the providential man. In Jesse's world, nothing was ever a problem, there was always a solution. When she finally made up her mind about moving out of her small Brooklyn apartment, refusing to use the loft where Derek had offered her to stay, he immediately volunteered to help her out and stepped up to the plate. He arranged everything, from packing her few possessions to hiring a moving company, and refurbishing her new place from floor to ceiling. He had exquisite taste. Karen was quite happy in her new flat. They spent an awful lot of time together and discovered they had much in common. In the end, it was a surprise for the both of them, but it turned out they were kindred spirits. In an ideal world, Jesse should have been her rebound guy.

When it became obvious that they were attached to the hip for various reasons neither Karen nor Jesse wanted to delve into, they were faced with a dilemma which appeared to solve itself quite easily. Karen needed a father to maintain appearances. Not for her own sake, god, she didn't mind being a single mother. Her parents didn't know anything about her affair with Derek Wills, she wanted the child to have a father figure in its life, and Jesse had always wanted to be a father. The untimely death of the love of his life had left him alone and unable to fulfil that need. It became an Occam's razor decision of sorts and an arrangement they were quite happy with. They were married before Christmas, not even two months after Derek's return to London. She was in her fifth month and nobody could have guessed from the wedding pictures. She was radiant, but which new bride wouldn't be?

She sent a card to Derek. He didn't receive it. He was in South Africa filming a thriller for ITV.

-o-

_London – November 2018_

Derek was right. Her new life in London fell quite fast into the comfort zone category. So did living with him. Not that they actually shared a lot. After long and exhausting hours of rehearsal, instead of going back to his place to work on the blocking or whatnot like he used to when they were in New York, he spent every evening in a different place with a different woman hanging on his arm, getting drunk and partying the hardest he could.

He usually went back in the wee hours of the morning to shave, have a shower and change before heading back to the theatre. Their paths barely crossed, not even in the kitchen. Allergic to tablets or any mobile device except his beloved cell, he would buy a newspaper on his way to work and have a cup of coffee and a sandwich near Leicester Square. From what she witnessed, it was a miracle he was able to operate during the day, or even still standing.

Without the presence of the ever enthusiastic Jenny, and her frequent conversations with Theo and her parents, her life would have been pretty dull. She didn't mind the peace and quiet, but she was not dead yet. So she went to see a few plays, tried out some restaurants, and spent her weekends strolling down the streets of London holding on to a good old map.

To be honest, it didn't distract her from her main concern. She found herself craving Derek's company which made it even more difficult to come to a decision for Theo. Her unexpected longing shouldn't have interfered with that process, but it turned out otherwise. She knew that as soon as Derek would lay eyes on the boy, he'd know. She needed more time to prepare herself for the impeding wrath of her former lover. The worse that could happen would be that he didn't feel concerned. She feared his indifference more than his anger. Either way, she had to come clean. That was the hard part. The more she waited, the more difficult it became. She had no idea how she could break the news after all this time. "By the way, I forgot to tell you: you have a son." That was a nightmare. He would quit 'Damsel for Hire', would throw her out of his mansion, would probably never speak to her again except by means of attorney.

On the other hand, Theo could stay exactly where he was and she could visit him for Christmas. Her little man was having the time of his life in Iowa. Though her folks made sure he wasn't spoiled, still they remained his grand parents. And that's what grand parents are basically here for. And what was the point of having him in London if she couldn't spend some true quality time with him? He was certainly better off over there for the time being. Maybe, after Halloween, or when they were through with the rehearsals, or…

She was aware she just delayed the unavoidable disclosure.

Karen had not seen the point of being involved with anyone since her divorce. There was no one in her life, she was not interested. Theo knew his stepfather had died a few months after her mother had divorced him, but he was still a baby at the time and couldn't entertain the same fond memories she had left of Jesse.

Of course, over the years, there had been the occasional flings, and some harmless one-night stands but nothing that could have jeopardised the quiet life she had been determined to build with her son. She didn't want to be involved with anyone for the sake of being involved. Her path hadn't crossed Prince Charming's yet but life had been easy on her. A string of smashing successes, a wonderful son, she was lucky. At this stage of her life, she had no regrets. Working with Derek again made her realize that he had been, and probably still was, the love of her life. Yes, she was lucky. Lots of people go through life without knowing what true love is.

Before getting more emotional than necessary, she revived her laptop and checked her e-mails. She could talk to her parents, talk to her son, basically, she knew she was living a lie. She wanted Derek back into her life, she had known that the day she had accepted John's and Harry's offer. When she had boarded her flight to London, she remembered toying with the idea of seeing Derek again. Now, she was stuck.

"Everything okay, darling," his strong voice startled her. "You look tired. Would you care to join me in the library for a nightcap?"

"Oh, I didn't know you were back already. I didn't hear the door," she said.

He rubbed his chin with a weary smile. "I've been trying to work for the past couple hours. I didn't want to disturb you. Good news from your family, I hope," he asked from the doorway, careful not to trespass any boundaries.

Immediately, Karen realized she had been talking to her mother for the last forty five minutes with her door open. To say she was embarrassed was an understatement. "You should have said something," she shook her head. "I thought I was alone, I'm sorry Derek."

"No need to apologize. You're a blessing for this house. Most of the time, it feel like living in Satis House, minus dear Ms Havisham of course."

"At least you, unlike her, take care of your estate," she grinned.

He nodded. His mouth twitched but his face remained inscrutable. "At least, it's an improvement to be in a Charles Dickens novel," he mused.

"I take it you're not a fan of Du Maurier then," she chuckled. "Too bad, you'd make a dashing Rochester."

But he was in no mood to play along. He leaned on the doorframe and crossed his arms, looking away. She finally broke the awkward silence. "So you were saying a last nightcap?"

"Right, sorry love, I've had a lot on my mind lately. I apologize for not giving you my full attention."

"You know you don't have to Derek. It was really kind of you to let me stay here," she added.

He looked up, and his eyes lingered a second too long on her face. He seemed hurt.

"We're still friends, yes?" she frowned. "I don't want to be a burden and I wouldn't like you to think I need to be entertained."

"But still I'd like to spend more time with you."

"Eight hours a day at the theatre, I think you give me plenty already," she tried.

"I've missed you Karen," he said bluntly. "I have no idea why I left you."

"Please don't," she whispered, stooping on the couch and averting her eyes. She heard him exhale sharply.

"I shouldn't have bothered you."

When she looked up, he was gone.


	9. 9 Exposure

My apologies to Chris Miller and Nathan Tysen ;) and thank you guys for your patience!

I don't own _**SMASH**_

-o-

**9. EXPOSURE**

_New York – June 2013_

Theo was nine and half weeks old and the perfect baby, and Jesse in a permanent state of bliss. He adored being a father and spent every minute of his free time in the nursery or at the park with Theo, talking to him endlessly, and exchanging baby stories with other elated parents. Karen had chosen to be on night watch. She loved the idea of being alone with her son, lost in an ocean of silence. Just like her mother had told her repeatedly, against her better judgement, breastfeeding had been surprisingly easy and convenient. Not only it helped her relax but it forged a strong bond with the baby. She eventually found the inner peace she had lacked since Derek had left. When the baby was awake, he would lock his eyes on her everywhere she went. It was a comforting feeling to have in her life another pair of eyes so similar to the one she used to cherish. Unlike Derek's, they always filled with unconditional love.

Probably because of it, though it was the happiest days of her life, after feeding Theo, she often cried herself back to sleep, and felt generally depressed. These first months had gone by in an instant and it was time for her to get back to the real world. Rehearsals for her new musical were supposed to start the first week of July. Thanks to Theo ferocious appetite, her body was back to normal. It was even thinner than it had ever been. She felt determined to succeed and was happy to get back in the game. She really looked forward to working again, hoping it didn't make her a bad mother, especially with the whole hiding Theo from his father stunt she had pulled on Derek and her fake marriage with her best gay friend. Fortunately, her next show was nothing like 'My Fair Lady' or 'Kiss Me Kate'. Actually, it was a real challenge.

Jerry had chosen to revive "Holly Golightly", a musical universally known for being one of the biggest flop in Broadway history, eliciting violent protests amongst his investors and partners. He didn't care. He was willing to put all his energy in this new production of "Breakfast at Tiffany's", a production that would have made Truman Capote himself proud, -his words, not hers.

Eventually, that meant rewriting the script entirely, a lot of new songs and a brand new choreography. Steven Sondheim rejected Rand's offer. So did Tom Levitt. Chris Miller and Nathan Tysen weren't so picky. They rose to the challenge. They gave Mancini's and Mercer's "Moon River" a more modern touch and this time, after all it was the twenty first century, wasn't it, Holly would be the prostitute her creator intended her to be. Jerry had high expectations. He wanted Karen to be the next Shirley McLaine. His "Breakfast" would be something like "Irma la Douce" meets "Sweet Charity", without Edward Albee, Bob Fosse and Edith Head. If it worked, it would be a miracle but she was eager to give it a try anyway.

On her first day back, Karen found out that she missed Derek's guidance and snarky remarks much more than she was ready to admit. It was weird to be directed by someone as nice as Norman Goldberg. The man was a legend but seemed to never let his ego get in the way of his work. He was easy to work with, despite his strictness and precision. Though very demanding, he never pushed anyone any farther that necessary, and it was a relief. They put in insane hours into creating the play, and after the few first weeks, she thought she would collapse. It didn't happen. Just like Derek had known from the very start, she was stronger than she felt.

Unfortunately, things started to deteriorate on the home front. Jesse was unemployed and tired all the time, he would spend days without talking to her for no reason. And one day, she came back to an empty house. Divorce papers were on her night stand with a note. Irreconcilable differences. She signed them. She knew they were 'just friends'. She was hurt he couldn't talk to her about his decision face to face.

She drowned in her work, unable to cope with his brutal defection.

Theo remained a constant source of joy.

-o-

_London – December 2018_

Rehearsals were going strong. Karen realized that without second-thinking it, both Derek and she had made a perfect job of avoiding one another. Apart from professional outings and close encounters at the theatre, they had simply drifted apart, exchanging occasional pleasantries when they were stuck in unavoidable collective exchanges over their work together or when their paths accidentally crossed at his place.

At the beginning, it conveyed a strong sense of independence. The actress fit perfectly in her generic American icon of Broadway role, and quite enjoyed it. For all the wrong reasons, it made her feel safe in her new London environment. It was nice at first. After a few weeks, she became restless and insecure despite the praise and the certainty that she was at her best. Before she knew it, she fell back into her usual patterns. She questioned her past and current choices, guilt washed over her in tidal waves, far more potent than when she had made up her mind years ago to keep Theo estranged from his father.

Fortunately, money was not an issue. Theorizing that sharing Derek's mansion was the sinews of her problem, she asked Jenny to find them a new place but never seemed to find the right time to tell Derek. She was confident he wouldn't want to know anyway. After their conversation a month back, and weeks of awkward silence, to say he had made himself scarce was an understatement. Obviously, he'd be better off without her in his close vicinity. She even convinced herself it was a decision she needed to make for the sake of their work and to guarantee the success of the musical.

It was only when she found herself looking out the window of her lonely apartment that reality began to sink in. Was her poor judgement a by-product of her guilt? She had no one to talk to, not her Mom and Dad for sure. They had no idea that Theo was Derek's and she had no qualm at leaving it that way. Not Jenny, who was born like yesterday, and surely didn't need the burden of having a psycho boss going off the rails on top of managing her life in an alien country. She was lucid enough to understand that she was reliving her initial trauma and wasn't equipped to deal with the same loss again. She had acted once again out of anger because Derek's betrayal still hurt and because, despite her strong resolve and the fact she could put up a good front, she wasn't able to deny any longer she still wanted him in her life.

She was more confused than ever about her choices, questioning her instincts, as if she had the rug pulled, again. It was upsetting because she felt like a deer frozen in the headlights, again; she didn't want to let her son down, and yet, that's exactly what she was doing, again. She was thrown back a few years, when he left before she could tell him she was with child, and taking what today seemed to be all the wrong decisions. But was I wrong, she asked herself. Of course you were. If you want to think otherwise you're on for a rude awakening. Mistrust has a way of feeding on itself. Derek was the only one she trusted back then, and yet, she chose to hide her pregnancy when it was the most important thing which had happened to them and probably will, for all she knew. She hadn't been confident enough. Her trust issues had been directed at herself, she was too proud to admit it. If she remembered right, they shared the theatre but not much else. Maybe he would have wanted to get involved but she wouldn't let him. Maybe she craved for more intimacy than Derek was willing to share, -or was it the other way round, and he turned away eventually. Even now, she was unsure of her motives. She would probably never know.

She knew then she was vulnerable with him, and she was even more today. She couldn't let him in now, as much as she wanted to, because she was stuck in the lie she had engineered. She was in London, experiencing the consequences based on her own choices, and god, it hurt. She moved away from the window and revived her laptop. It was that time of day she could talk to her son and do everything she could to make it right. Well, try, at least. The familiar jingle echoed in the room and she sat down before the screen.

Theo was his usual exuberant self, ready for a new day and full of childish energy. She let him babble as much as he wanted about his teacher, friends and neighbours. Like always, he was cheerful and happy, and that made her feel a lot better. He was proof positive that she had done something right, hadn't she? She smiled back at his bouncing image when he finally jumped away from his chair.

"Hey, wait! Aren't you going to kiss me good day, sweet pea?"

"Mom, I'll miss the bus," he yelled, running out of sight. She waited for a couple of seconds to give her folks time to replace him in front of the computer, but nobody came and the screen froze. Cursing between her teeth, she checked the connexion but the problem was on their end. She sat back on the couch, her eyes lingering on the bare walls, unaware of the ruckus in the street below. She finally stood up, combed her hair with her fingers and glanced at her reflection in the window. Her head dropped on her chest. She had no idea what she was doing. Well, that is not a first, she smirked between her teeth.

Deciding against ordering in, she grabbed her purse and coat and headed outside in search of a place to eat. Derek was right, she was too thin really, she'd never make it through rehearsals and even less through regular performances on one apple and one energy drink a day. She opened the door and turned around at the last second to fetch her favourite Cashmere scarf when an unmistakable voice stopped her dead in her tracks.

"Hello Karen, when were you going to tell me?"


	10. 10 Death in the Family

I must apologize for the delay. i'm not quite satisfied with the result but i'm so late (feb5 YAY!) it's time to get some work done ;)

_**I don't own SMASH**_

-o-

**9. DEATH IN FAMILY**

_New York – October 2013_

Jesse had died. Jesse was dead.

She was so distressed that she had no idea how to actually put it into words. She listened to her voice mail for the umpteenth time. Some unknown medical facility had left her a generic impersonal message not even an hour ago. When she called them back, they told her Jesse passed away peacefully in his sleep, after a long battle, so very sorry for your loss, etc, etc.

She felt numb. She couldn't stop crying, she couldn't stop turning the last couple of days in her head, and there wasn't much to think about. She was too busy with the play and Theo and the million things she had to take care of on any normal day. Last she heard of him, they spoke about a visit to some recreation park he looked forward to taking her and Theo. He didn't make a last call. And now she would never hear his voice again. Not that he was the most talkative person. Generally shy and discreet, what he lacked in confidence he made up for in easy banter.

She hasn't had the smallest hunch he was so sick it was life threatening. Everything was beginning to make sense now. The hasty divorce, the weeks away from New York on a supposed house hunt, the constant presence of his voice mail acting like a shield against her more pressing questions. How was she supposed to cope with a death she had not foreseen?

When she had suspected for a brief moment that he was ill, she discarded the uncanny thought instantly. Jess was his usual self. Cheerful, modest, so present in Theo's life and hers it was impossible to know that he could possibly hide his illness from them. He never even reached out to her for comfort after their quiet divorce. And now he was gone. God, he was her friend, why the secrecy? How was it supposed to happen so fast?

She stretched her legs under the bench before her. The church was packed, everyone communing in a stunned contemplative silence. The photograph of a smiling Jesse seemed out of place before the open casket. Her eyes were locked on the priest but she barely heard a word of his sermon.

She sensed insistent stares on her like she was responsible for his untimely death. Was she being paranoid? Jesse had refused his whole life to being defined by his sexual preferences. He was not a closeted gay man, he was simply Jesse. Only a handful of her closest friends knew of their arranged marriage. Nonetheless, she was glad Theo was safe at home. The boy was not old enough to attend the service, and had he be, she wouldn't have born having him by her side facing such a fierce display of hostility.

She was being selfish but she needed Derek so badly at this precise moment it physically hurt. The feeling grew more potent once the crowd gathered outside. Fortunately, an icy breeze and the promise of an impending snowfall hasted the proceedings and the throng scattered away.

It was peaceful and quiet. Jesse would have liked it here, she thought once alone at last, unable, now that it was over, to shed a single tear.

She made it back home in a haze. She parked in front of the town house, lost in her thoughts. Was it a sign? Jesse insisted she'd come clean with Derek for her sake and Theo's. Maybe the time had come. Maybe if she should call Derek now, and Jesse's death would make sense. Her arms crossed on the wheel, she stayed still until she was too cold to hold back her tears. She sobbed for a long time in the privacy of her car. Finally, she retrieved her cell and dialled Derek's number.

"The number you are trying to reach is no longer in service," the digital voice boomed in her ear.

That was another sign. She was acting like a fool. Derek was gone. Jesse was gone. Theo was all she had left.

-o-

_London – December 2018_

"Hello Karen, when were you going to tell me?"

Karen jumped. She turned around stumbling in the doorway. "Derek! What are you doing here?" she asked, rubbing her back, "you startled me," she winced.

He simply tilted his head, not offering some kind of apology or attempting to get any closer. His poise enraged her. What was it with him? Did he think that the only thing he had to do was to show up, give her one of his wolfish smile and turn on the charm to get back into her good graces? Well, that's what he does, she shrugged inside. Then she noticed the concern in his eyes, and how much he looked tired. They weren't in friend zone lately, nor on speaking terms, but she should have told him about the apartment. After all, he was ready to accept Theo's presence, -for her sake.

Holding her breath, she considered he might have learnt the truth about Theo. But how could he possibly know anything? If her assistant took upon her to… No, no, she was delirious, Jenny had no idea that Derek was Theo's father to begin with. And her assistant would never meddle in her private matters with someone she barely knew.

She stared at Derek, her heart pounding, her mind reeling, unable to form an educated thought. I must look like a fool, she thought, trying to keep at bay the so familiar girl next door uneasiness which was striking back with a vengeance. She tucked a strand lock of hair behind her ear, red creeping up her face. In the end, she simply gaped, tentatively keeping her simmering anxiety at bay.

"Well, I could start with asking you exactly the same question," Derek stated matter-of-factly, his voice even. He took a step back, shoved his hands deep inside his tux pockets and "What are you doing here? I was under the impression that we had an agreement."

"You were under a false impression then," she tried. Relief washed over her. He was standing at her door only to confront her with her housing arrangements. "I never promised you anything."

"Really? So it's about the size of it? You just leave. Not a word to Mrs Outhwaite or more American perhaps, a post-it on the fridge? Isn't it a tad overly dramatic even for a diva fresh from the Broadway stage?"

She felt her mouth twitch. No, she wouldn't let him manoeuvre her. "Oh yes, really. And don't even begin with your mundane routine, Derek, you know me well enough to understand that it won't work," she snapped.

"I have no idea what you're talking about, darling," he smiled. "But anything that floats your boat…"

"You really want to do this?" The lobby went dark and she angrily punched the time switch. "What is it exactly? That I am to remain at your place for the rest of the rehearsals? Or is it for the entire run of the play? We never discussed that, Derek," she said dryly before turning her back to him and closing the door. "It was very nice of you to…"

"Please, don't. Aren't going to let me in?"

He didn't look tired actually, she thought, he seems genuinely exhausted, almost gaunt under the bleak artificial light. She inhaled deeply. "I was on my way out," she said petulantly. "How did you get into the building?"

"You kidding right? You disappear without a warning sign and your main concern is how I manage to get to your floor? For your information, I bribed the concierge and took the lift. So, when were you going to tell me?"

"I don't want to talk about it," she replied, avoiding eye contact. She pressed the call button and her eyes drifted absently to the display, ignoring him.

"Did I do something that ruffled your feathers?" he insisted.

"You're not going to make it easy, are you?" she finally gave in with a deep sigh.

"Listen, my goal is not to make your life easy or miserable. But I thought we were friends?"

"What has it got to do with anything?"

The elevator doors hissed opened and he extended his arm. "After you."

She rushed inside and turned around to face him. "Friends don't spend valuable time avoiding each other at all cost."

"I tried to give you some space."

"Space?"

"Yes, space. After all, you didn't exactly offer any comment after the last time we talked. I thought I made myself clear. Your silence was proof enough I was heading in the wrong direction and I'm sorry if I ever offended you."

"Oh boy," she sighed. "You didn't offend me, Derek. You… I… I wasn't expecting you'd ever brought up the subject again. It's been years."

"So you were surprised?"

"Really?" she said again. "We're going to end up talking about that again? I can't believe you've come all the way to my place to discuss that. I'm not 24 any more. I didn't understand your reasons for leaving me when you did. I don't want you to make me feel guilty now!"

"Guilty?" Derek frowned. "Why on earth would you feel guilty because of my appalling behaviour?"

"I thought…"

"Listen. I left you because I'm a fool, an imbecile and a coward. I've spent years wondering why. When you didn't try anything…"

"…to get you back? Derek, you're a grown man. You know."

"Oh yes darling, I know. That doesn't make it any less pathetic."

"What did you expect? That I'll come running back into your arms and forgive the past?"

"Of course not." He glanced at the digital display and back at her. "Only that you'd come running back into my arms."

She chuckled. "Listen, I'm hungry. Why don't we try to act like adults for once and have a nice chat over a nice meal?"

"Dare I say it like consenting adults?" he said. His face softened when she smiled.

"Not funny," she said, leaving the elevator with Derek in her wake.


	11. Merry Christmas Mr Wills

Sorry, I know it took me like ages but this second season… well, you know what I mean :(

_**I don't own SMASH**_

-o-

**10. MERRY CHRISTMAS MR. WILLS**

_Somewhere in South Africa – December 2013_

"And it's a cut," someone shouted in the background, sounding indecisive.

"Come on people, move it! This is not "The Deer Hunter", this is a series, get back in the game will you!" Derek Wills' voice bounced back on the derelict walls of concrete. "In case you forgot, we're on a budget here!"

The director and his operating crew had been at the shooting site for the last few days. Even at the wee hours of the morning, the heat was barely liveable. The subtropical climate was taking its toll on everyone, especially the mercurial B-List director.

"Well, I see that you can still keep things moving when you want to," he shouted, dropping on his chair like a bag of potatoes. He ran his hand through his badly enough tousled hair. "You took your sweet time," he bellowed, his British accent thicker than usual. He tore off a few pages from the script and studied the storyboard resisting a childish impulse. Bite his finger nails.

Even though a very large majority of the production crew working on the set would have loved to throttle him half the time, there was one thing everybody agreed on: it was never boring to work with the man. He kept himself aloof at all times but despite a ferocious –even bitchy, they said, sense of humour and epic tantrums, he got the job done.

The production was way ahead of schedule. It was never Derek's plan to spend extra days in the upland savanna of KwaZulu-Natal, if he could do otherwise. How anyone could possibly endure both his direction and the impossible heat was not his concern.

The production had planned a three week filming schedule on location. But Derek wanted it done in ten days, that was by the end of the week. He was stranded in the middle of nowhere fighting bugs and his technical crew alike. It was not what he had in mind when he signed his contract. The-power-that-be, some British producers sipping right now their 50 year old single malt at Boodle's or White's, wanted a TV movie that looked real, without too many fancy CGI, testosterone packed and cost-effective. He could give them exactly that in less time. And the best TV movie they would ever seen to boot. Everybody wins.

Derek wiped his forehead, his eyes scanning the set. The exterior lot of the studios in Johannesburg would provide a perfect mock-up for all additional scenes. As for the rest, it could be done anywhere in the world. Eastern Europe, maybe?

"Very good, people, I see you finally get the hang of it." He sprang on his feet. "Now, move, next scene! Where are the half-tracks? I need a camera here, and here, and here. Come on, sometime before Christmas would be nice!"

"Derek," a soft voice purred in his back, "they need a break."

"Nathalie, I was lacking your intoxicating presence today, where the hell is everybody, for god's sake?"

"Lunch time," she purred again, unfazed.

"Lunch break? We barely got started! For crying out loud, it's not even 10!"

"Until," she checked her watch, "ten thirty-ish… Union contract," she shrugged.

"Really? They had to clamp down the non-union employment even here? I thought that was the whole point of relocating productions to the end of the world! Well, never mind. Any news from the REAL world?"

"The mail got lost again, I'm afraid, but they said…"

"Oh if THEY said," he smirked, "everything's going to be fine, I reckon. Like my satellite connexion?"

"It's only for a few days… Don't fret! Last year, our generator died, and our back up generator died, and our main character managed to break his leg on his only day off…"

"I don't fret, I'm on the verge of having an epileptic fit, I've never sweated that much in my entire life."

Nathalie shrugged again. The director was not a big shot, and she was used to dealing with European having issues with the climate in this part of the globe. The Brit, in his late thirties, she was guessing, was sporting the generic stubble currently in vogue, and was clearly in need of a haircut. Despite the heat, he was wearing his signature leather jacket, though it seemed a bit out of place, an impression possibly created by his British sense of style.

"What am I supposed to do while everybody idles under their tents with the local caterer?"

The constant smug, she was accustomed to and she could deal with as well. But she was unsure of the real intentions of the philandering director. His reputation preceded him. She squeezed her eyes against the burning sun, feigning indifference.

"You could join them and mingle."

He didn't even bother to answer. "Or we could review the latest shots," he said in a dispassionate tone.

"Okay," she nodded. "Do you want me to call for Tommy?"

"Come on love, we won't need him if we're on the same page."

Bingo, she thought. She couldn't tell whether she was pleased he had finally noticed her or enraged it had taken him a week.

-o-

_London – December 2018_

"Good." Derek stood and shuffled some papers around. "Thank you all, that was a great rehearsal. You'll find my notes in your mail box since I'm told I won't see you for another week." He looked up and gazed at the crowd gathered on the stage with affected annoyance. "So, everyone has a Merry Christmas or whatever you shall celebrate… or not and I'll see you back in January."

Someone clapped in the background. Karen trotted down the stage and he greeted her with a courteous bow. "So you're off to the airport, I reckon? You sure you don't need a lift? I'd be quite happy to accompany you."

"In your shiny bachelor sports car?"

"Vintage bachelor roadster," he grinned. "And yes. Or we can rent an estate car…"

"Sorry?"

"A family wagon?"

"Oh, I couldn't Derek. I'm already soo late."

"Well I look forward to seeing your family again Karen, you father is a good man."

"Yes he is…" she nodded unsure of the direction this odd conversation was going and yet unable to leave. Things had seemed to settle down after their evening at the restaurant. They had agreed to let the past stay in the past. That was a good plan. She couldn't help to feel a twinge of regret but it was for the best. For her own sake, she couldn't take that path again. She stared blankly, knowing that she'll probably miss him more than he will once the play was over. But Derek seemed unaware of her trouble.

"And I still have to meet Jesse jr!" Derek beamed at her. He stacked his notes neatly in a very posh brown leather portfolio and grabbed his jacket. "What is he into these days? Video games would be my guess. I will have to find something typically British for the little fellow…" he said.

She couldn't help but avoid his stare. Yes, he will meet Theo at last, but with one major caveat: he couldn't learn whose son he was… She wasn't feeling thrilled by the prospect. She was tired of lying to everybody.

"Is everything all right?" Derek insisted with a frown of concern. He tied a long scarf around his neck.

"Oh yes, I'm just in a rush, I should have left fifteen minutes ago already," she shrugged.

"Your cab is right up front, you'll get to Heathrow in time." He crossed his arms in front of his chest, his eyes lingering on her face when she didn't move.

What she should do was to grow some backbone and come clean. It was perfect timing. Derek wouldn't combust if she revealed the truth now, he simply would not have time enough to elaborate on her confession. But it was a coward way to do it. She didn't want that, she pondered. On the other hand, as far as she knew, Derek was still a player and revealing the truth would put her in a weird place. She wasn't sure she wanted to go down that road just yet. It was surreal enough to be working with him in London. For once, she'd like not to feel anything. But despite her better judgement, she couldn't help but being drawn to him. She shrugged inside. It had nothing to do with reason, of course.

She'd have to see him again and again for the sake of Theo, with a different woman at his arm each time. The prospect terrified her. She was being unfair. Derek wouldn't impose a stranger on his own son only to make a stand. She pursed her lips. How could she be jealous in anticipation?

"Darling, what's the matter? Aren't you happy to see your folks?"

"What are you gonna do?" she blurted out without thinking.

"Excuse me?"

"I mean," she checked her watch and bite her lip, "it's Christmas and all. Are you going to spend Christmas alone?"

"Look at you, all worried I will be all on my lonesome!" he smirked. "Don't hold your breath, I'm not planning a monacal retreat. I'll probably crash a party and get pissed."

She gave him a confused look. "Oh… Okay, see you." She blushed and walked past him. "Derek?" she said, turning around to face him, her face serious. "If you ever change your mind, we'll be happy to have you… you know?"

He nodded and kissed her on the cheek. "Off you go now, sweetheart, or you'll miss them!" With that, he headed outside before she could pull herself together.


End file.
